


OTPs and Drama

by solitariusvirtus, tenten_d



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU!-ish moments, Attempt at Humor, Basically ASoIaF characters being shippers of various pairings, Multi, Shipping, Shipping War, ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenten_d/pseuds/tenten_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with Tywin trying to convince his King that a match between his daughter and the Prince was desirable and rewarding. Yet it somehow degenerated into a shipping war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Aerys choked on a mouthful of absolutely delicious hypocras, spilling some of the spiced wine on himself. He coughed violently a few times, presumably in order to rid his throat of the excess liquid. Then he looked at Tywin with what might be termed extreme fury. “What did you just say?” he bellowed.

“Your Majesty,” Tywin started, selecting a piece of parchment which he presented to his King, “the obvious benefits of pairing His Grace your eldest son and my daughter are irrefutable. Consider only the beautiful children.” 

“How dare you?” Aerys grimaced. He tried to stand up, but the edge of his robe caught in one of the throne’s spikes and pierced his flesh. But the man was not to be deterred. “This odious bond that you aspire to shall never come to fruition. Never.”

“But-“ Tywin attempted to interrupt only to be favoured with a venomous glare. 

“Never!” the Mad King proclaimed. “Now kindly cease robbing me of oxygen and be gone. And tag your idiocies!”  
Who had heard of a bigger atrocity than that? His son and Tywin’s daughter; it would never happen, not as long as Aerys still drew breath. Tywin had had robbed Aerys of the pleasure of a relationship once. By the Seven, history would not repeat itself.


	2. Chapter 2

Cersei sobbed into her pillow, her whole frame shaking. It was so unfair, so utterly iniquitous that there mere thought of it tore at her tender heart. How could such cruelty be endured? Anger flared within a moment and she started ripping at the blameless inanimate cushion, shredding the fine embroidery. “I will not stand for this! I will not!” Cersei then proceeded to make her displeasure known by slamming the remnants of the pillow into the wall.

While such abuse was very far from the usual behaviour adopted by the noble maid – it was much more pleasing to tear other individuals apart; figuratively, of course – one had to make allowances on such a momentous occasion as the one she was currently living through. 

“I shall petition the Seven and the Father shall smite that odious man for robbing me of my Prince,” Cersei declared passionately. “And then nothing will stand in my way.” She was evidently referring to the King’s impertinence. “That old lunatic. What could he possibly mean by saying I am not good enough.”

There was no one better than her for Rhaegar. No one. Any interloper would be dispatched with utmost haste in a decidedly unpleasant manner. “Hear me roar,” the lioness whisper-screamed, raising her chin defiantly to the empty space surrounding her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cersei Lannister on "What do you mean my ship isn't canon?"
> 
> Also, if you can figure out who "the Seven" stands for, I'll reward you with a vignette for a ship of your own choosing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jess who requested Edmure/Roslin. Walder Frey jumps on the shippers wagon, for reasons not entirely moral (but amusing). Revenge is sweet, after all...

Walder Frey rubbed his palms together in the universally acknowledged, well-worn way of wicked masterminds who had set their mind aplotting. To his right his latest spouse cradled her bulging stomach with a care that belied her unconcerned appearance. Walder snorted. As if he would call her to ask about the whelp she carried.

“I have devised a suitable chastisement for that insolent pup,” he spoke, spittle spraying past his lips. “I shall give his uncle my most beautiful daughter. And I shall rub it in the King’s face, see if I don’t.”

“Don’t distress yourself, my lord. I am certain once the King realises the gravity of his error, he shall beg our pardon,” Joyeouse managed, her eyes wide and calf-like.

“I don’t care for his apologies.” Lord Frey cackled, rubbing his hands together some more, presumably for warmth and proper blood circulation this time around. “I want him to live the rest of life with the knowledge that sweet, er, Roslin – I think – could have been his. I want him to remember when Roslin has Tully’s first strong son, that the boy might have been his. I want him to suffer knowing that Rolsin has given beautiful daughters to Edmure, not to him.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Camille who wanted some Sansa/Margaery. Loras has given you his fullest support. :)

Loras rolled his eyes and tried to hide the despair blooming in his chest. 

Sansa Stark was pleasant enough, but thoroughly uninteresting and definitely not appealing to his particular tastes. Luckily for him, Loras had inherited along with his good looks, a brain to match. True, he did not share grandmother and Margaery’s political bent, but his heart was in the right place.

Thus convinced of his magnanimity, Loras put together plan that would ensure Sansa fell for the right Tyrell. If anyone could protect Sansa in King’s Landing then it was his sister. Fortuitously, Margaery was more than happy to be Sansa’s knight in embroidered silks.

“And how do you propose we convince her to trust us?” Margaery asked, reclining against the soft pillows filled with swan feathers. “I wouldn’t wish to scare the poor dear.”

“Which is why you will use this.” He pulled the lid off the plate to reveal seven perfectly formed lemon cakes.   
Margaery pulled a face. “Lemon cakes? How is that going to aid my lover’s crusade, brother?” She eyed the confections suspiciously.

“It’s precisely what you need. Trust me. Sansa Stark won’t be able to resist the allure of lemon cakes. And then, the only thing you have to do is woo her.” He smiled, pleased with himself beyond words. 

It was perfect.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Jess again. Joff and Ramsay at their worst...er, I mean best, no worst. Never mind. I hope you like it. :)

Pushing the woman’s head with the tip of his toes lightly, Joffery looked over his shoulder to where Ramsay was busily working on peeling a patch of irritated skin off of a screaming wench’s leg. He conveniently ignored the pool of blood seeping out of his victim. “I think I broke this one,” he said, green eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Shall I help you with yours?”

“Don’t,” Ramsay replied in a light manner. “The affair is too bloody. Sit and watch. You’ll enjoy it more.” The tortured female wailed in agony and Joffrey lost his temper and ordered her to be quiet. Ramsay looked up from his work just in time to see a dagger pressed to the woman’s throat. The golden glint of the hilt reminded him of the present he had brought with him. “Have you unwrapped your gift yet?”

Joffrey sent one hateful look to Ramsay’s work of art, but he did turn to grab the gift. He pulled the red velvet away to reveal a skull half covered in gold. “What is this?” He lifted it to admire curiosity better.

“They say that when the Horse Lord poured the molten gold on the Dragon’s head, it melted his skin clean off.” Ramsay was close enough that Joffrey heard his whisper perfectly. 

“I think I’ll watch you work with my new friend here.” Joffrey cackled. “You do know me so well, after all.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Hanhreus. This is the Aegon/Jaehaera with some Viserys thrown in. Have fun. :)

“Do stop scowling, brother mine, ‘tis very unbecoming,” Viserys offered wisely. Aegon ignored him. He could not tear his eyes away from the sight before his eyes. It made him sick. His heart palpitated in a worrisome manner. There was something wrong with the picture. “I do not mean to overstep any boundaries,” his brother continued, placidly heaping mutton on his plate, “but you might want to talk to the woman. You’d be surprised at what a few words can achieve.”

At that Aegon tore his eyes away from the distressing scene for a moment, enough to throw Viserys a dark look. He refused to dignify that last blow with a reply. “One more word out of you,” he warned, anger simmering under a relatively calm veneer.

“Oh, so I am at fault for your incapability to speak to your wife,” Viserys mocked in turn. “Am I to be blamed for the fact that you have yet done something to rectify the situation, if it bothers you so much, my King?”

Aegon gnashed his teeth together. “You are at fault, you witless fool,” he hissed.

“She’s no Dornishman’s wife. I hope you do realise.” That did not seem to came the King any. In fact his gaze only grew harder on the pair dancing. 

“I am no Dornishman. It’ll be flames that kill him.” Violet eyes met lilac stare. 

Aegon stood.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Phantom white lady of 221b. Here is your Jaime/Sansa serving with a side dish of Joffrey and guilt.

She was Rhaella Targaryen reborn, Jaime thought as he spied a thin red line marring the Queen’s otherwise alabaster skin. And this Rhaella set his heart aflutter with a simple tilt of her head. Lifeless blue eyes stared ahead, her face a mask of tranquillity. Yet beneath the calmest surface, turmoil simmered; a faint shade in the woman’s eyes. Sansa Stark was another sin on his ever growing list of offences.

There had to be some reason which aptly explained the lure of these doomed sentiments lodged in his heart. He didn’t want to feel that telltale pain in chest whenever a new bruise marred the Queen’s skin. He didn’t want to have a scream crawling up his neck when he heard her weep behind closed door. He didn’t want to remember the child with a head full of song and dreams and that too bright smile which had long since slipped from her face.

Queens were his weakness it seemed. Jaime did not even try to resist comforting the injured little bird when the world slept, when her royal husband entertained whatever gory dreams filtered through his cursed head. With each new mark he discovered the whip of his ineptitude lashed down blows on his bared conscience, leaving him drowning in the Queen’s skin and sighs, regrets and broken vows.


	8. Chapter 8

Maekar raised one eyebrow at his older brother. “Are you going to move anytime soon?” he asked, an annoyed expression on his face. “Rhaegel!” This time his voice was accompanied by a mild shove. His idiotic brother had been standing in front of the doors for the last quarter hour, eyeing the ceiling like dragons were dancing on it. 

Rhaegel finally looked down from the ceiling, eyes wide and awed. “Ah, brother. Good day.” He smiled and Maekar was tempted to kick his teeth in. “What brings you here?”

Suppressing a growl, the younger brother put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I’m here to see out sister. You know our sister right. About this tall,” he indicated the height with his hand, “with violet eyes and light blonde hair. Does that ring any bells?”

“If you are searching for Aelinor, then what are you doing here. She left for the Sept a short time ago.” Rhaegel nodded for emphasis. He dutifully ignored his brother’s reddening face.

“And you couldn’t have told me this earlier?” Maekaer questioned, visibly struggling.

Rhaegel shrugged his shoulders. At that Maekar gave him disgruntled look and walked down the hall, fond words of the king disapproved by the Septon in his wake. Rhaegel smiled at the ceiling again. Maekar was so easy to fool. Well, at least he wouldn’t bother their sister and the Lord Hand.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King Viserys the reluctant Rhaenyra/Daemon shipper...for Hanhreus.

Viserys waved his hand, signalling that he was ready to hear the next letter. Ser Otto Hightower unrolled one of the parchments and Viserys watched his lips mouth the words. “Eh, what does the letter say, my good Lord, I haven’t all day.” He took a bite of the apple he held.

Ser Otto murmured something too low for Viserys to catch, but his face was rapidly losing colour, which the King took as a sign that good news were not to be expected. The Hand of the King cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, it seems that your brother has taken your daughter to wife.”

The apple pieces that had been previously descending down his throat without a problem stuck in his gullet producing an odd chocking sound. Surprise and terror mingles on his face at such news. “I cannot say I haven’t been expecting to hear something like this.” Ah, his poor daughter. “Is there nothing to be done?”

“Apparently, the Princess is expecting,” Ser Otto supplied, a sour look on his face. “There is nothing to be done.” It was getting worse.

The threat of an apoplexy removed did not a happy man make. But Viserys knew when a battle was lost. “Very well, then, let us move on to the next issue of interest.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacaerys and Lucerys misunderstand the situation. Grossly. Their mother soon puts them to rights.

Luke and Jace shared a look of undisguised alarm as their mother sat her dragon with accustomed grace and a strange yearning expression on her face. The two boys usually had an excellent reading of her moods and thoughts. This time it was very much different. They knew not the cause of her excitement, and it, understandable, made them uneasy.

Syrax took to the sky, wings stretched wide. As beautiful as the sight was, the brothers could not help but feel apprehension for the rider and the horse that galloped on the ground. “Do you think she plans to have Syrax snack upon them?” Luke asked, pointing to the rider.

“How would I know?” Jace snapped. “Still, I should think not. Daemon is tied to us by blood. Surely kinslaying does not appeal to mother.” Luke nodded his way. 

They continued to watch as Syrax circled round and around above the rider who had finally stopped moving. Two pairs of eyes widened as the airborne beast flew down towards Daemon Targaryen. Whatever the man had done to offend their mother, it seemed cruel to give him to Syrax.

“Great, now we’ll never learn that trick he showed us,” Luke complained. His brother agreed albeit silently.

However, it seemed their mother’s plan did not involve any lasting damage done to the poor man. In fact, Rhaenyra seemed to busy pulling the man on her dragon and smashing her lips to his in a warrior-like gesture. 

The boys gave twin squeaks of alarm and scurried away from the window.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For CABRALFAN27, who requested Thoros/Melisandre.

It’s the flames in her eyes, those eerie and beautiful red eyes that slay Thoros. He recognises in her the bright fire of R’hllor and the need to stoke those flames wraps around him like a snake coiling around its prey. Her eyes dance with amusement, the perfect bow shape of her mouth barely stretching into a smile. Oh, she knows.

Her white hands are awash in a sea of blood red silk. Her hair, equally bright flows around her like a fiery curtain. She is the flame. Thoros looks away, no longer able to hold her gaze. But he does wish he could. Of only.

She moves without a sound, gliding over the path and she appears, like a ghost, in front of him. Red is everywhere. Red is the colour of her hair, and red her lips, red glow her eyes and red is her kiss. The Lord of Light has blessed them. The Hearts of Fire is loud in the dark. The God of Flame and Shadow is ever bright. 

Felled by the sheer ecstasy of devoted passion, Thoros can taste salvation in her mouth, the taste of ash and blood. They are connected to the higher being in that moment.

And then it is over. The Priestess lets go of him and covers her head, drawing her cowl over her laming tresses. Her face is bathed in shadows then and only the two embers of her eyes remain, red and searing, tearing their way into his very heart.

“Perhaps we shall meet again,” the Priestess says. She turns to leave and before Thoros can voice his thoughts, she calls out over her shoulder, “Melisandre.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Phantom white lady of 221b, who requested Barristan/Rhaella.

She was the most beautiful woman Barristan had seen, tall and graceful and cheerful. Her violet eyes laughed along with a quirk of her lips. And she tilted her head in an adorable manner. She was enchanting, a goddess shaped from ivory and amethyst. The crown of white and red carnations rested atop her silver curls and Ser Bonifer's eyes sparkled. They existed in a world of their own, a world that a Kingsguard had no business pining for.

Barristan Selmy, whom they called the Bold, did not have it in him to leave open the door of temptation. He closed his eyes and willed away the sight of the happy maiden and her innocent joy. She was not for him, nor for the likes of Hasty. It was such a shame her happiness would not last.

"Your Grace, we must make haste," he reminded her, try to quell the brewing storm. Rhaella turned to face him, the gentle shape of her mouth relaxing in a neutral line. She gave a soft sign and made her farewells to the knight whose eyes drank her in.

Placing a small hand in his, Rhaella was helped onto her horse. "I apologise, Ser. I hope I have not been too much trouble." Barristan battled with himself in that moment, wondering if he should warn the or turn a blind eye to the tangle.

But the Princess is no longer looking at him. The sharp pain in his heart steals his breath away for a moment and his lips clamp shut.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For Kit Thespian, who wanted a TyrSan vs. SanSan. Have an indecisive Sansa who is given cause to delay even further making up her mind. :)

Both matches should be equally contemptible. Sansa contemplated choosing neither one, but that would mean placing herself in the King's path. She shuddered at the thought of Jeoffrey and his unusual definition of courteous behaviour. Indeed, perhaps if the gods had made such a beautiful creature rotten on the inside, she might have more luck searching for kindness from the monstrous and deformed.

On the one hand, there was Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf with mismatched eyes, sharp wits and a barbed tongue. He had protected her from the King and his cruelty, but the very sight of him, all twisted, repulsed her. Sansa lowered her gaze in shame. Beauty meant nothing, less than nothing. Tyrion had been kind to her, and that was what she wanted, after all, wasn't it?

On the other hand, there was the Hound, Joffrey's creature. Sandor Clegane, Sansa forced herself to think. The memory of his ruined face made her stomach turn in protest. He had been truthful, painfully honest. And he wanted her, or at least so she thought. But would he be willing to risk everything and run off with her? Would he be willing to break with the King for a maiden when he professed to being no knight?

Carefully deliberating the matters in her head, Sansa was slow to realise that Margaery Tyrell had joined her in the gardens. She looked up to see the other maiden with a shy smile on her face. Sansa made to leave, but she was stopped. "Oh, do not leave on my account, Lady Sansa. I would have words with you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bracken/Blackwood for Hanreus. Or how to woo a lady...

The girl walked across the meadow to the river, her bare feet nestled in the green grass. She hummed to herself, a tune unknown. Her voice was too high for the sound to be pleasant. From his place perched atop a tree limb a young man watched her sink to her knees and fill a jug of water.

“You,” he called out, startling the female enough so that she would drop her jug, “what are you doing on Blackwood land?”  
Blue eyes glared at him from within the sweetest face he had ever seen. “Blackwood lands?” Her voice rose in indignation. “I think not. This is Bracken soil.”

Jumping down from the tree, he approached her, holding both his hands up when he saw her bristling. Who knew, she might hit him with that jug of hers over the head in he wasn’t careful. “Fair maiden, you err. This is my land and I am no Blackwood.” He bent down to pick her jug and hand it to her. “And you have stolen my water. I could have you punished for that.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” the young woman growled at him. “I stole nothing, knave. Go away and let me be.”

She made to move past him, but he caught her by the arm. “Pay me then and I’ll let you go.”

“Pay you?” She looked close to laughing. “In what coin should I pay you? Alms or kisses?”

“Why a kiss, my lady, would be best.” He did not even wait for the shock to evaporate from her face before he kissed her lips. He laughed when she pushed him away. “If I catch you here again, I take more kisses.”

The damage had already been done though. The Bracken maiden ran away.

(But she would return.)


End file.
